The Halo Of Vakh (BOOK 1)

SILENCE BEFORE THE STORM

"You won't be recognized."

Lysander had been hearing those words repeatedly from Andrew and they were starting to scratch at his last bit of sanity. He knew the truth of those words; he was in disguise, he could not be recognized. It was his nervousness to do certain things that were mistaken for fear. He glared at Andrew.

"What if there is someone we recognize in there?" he asked, turning back to face the closed door in front of them.

"No one survived the attack on Murkat," Thomas replied, voice a low sardonic drawl. "Everyone was either killed, taken captive or sold as slaves."

"And for what reason?" Lysander growled out. "That entire fiasco is on me. If I had been slightly faster and more vigilant, Parr's men would have never gotten in. We could have easily squashed them. We knew they were coming. We knew they were gathering. I knew they would attack in the dead of the night, instead of in the morning as was their original plan. And I failed to get that message to everyone."

He remembered how the soldiers had ploughed on through the city gates, rampaging across the homes, decimating anyone who came to face them, and taking others captive. Even all of Thomas' inventions and bombs hadn't kept them away. The Vakhor had descended with shrill screams. All because his magic had failed him at the final moments, blocked by the shield a soul-seller had cast.

Thomas and Andrew remained silent. The door opened inwards and a man in a brown tunic appeared, his jaw was crooked and a scar ran diagonally down his face, discolouring his lip where it ran across it. One of his eyes was a pure milky white, the whites of his eyes a light red, lined by arteries. Lysander stood up straighter under his one-eyed scrutiny.

"Get in," he ordered with a jerk of his head. The three filed in. Lysander kept his right hand on the hilt of his falchion.

Lysander raised his brows at the book-filled shelves around the room. He saw no one in the place and turned around.

"Parth?"

Lysander nodded. With a stern nod, they were led through a labyrinth of shelves, turning left and right so rapidly that he could not remember the way. He almost walked into the burly man as he stopped in front of an enormous torch, stuck in a dark wall, well away from the bookshelves. He saw a carving on the bronze metal, just beneath the man's hand, an eagle with its wings spread wide. A creak made him look ahead. The wall had slid away at a movement from the torch bracket, revealing the inky hallway behind. Lysander turned to the man.

"Go on. He'll be waiting for you at the other end."

Lysander raised an eyebrow as Andrew and Thomas brushed past him to the other side. The man merely smirked lightly at him and Lysander could do nothing but square his shoulders and turn back around to follow his friends. If it turned out to be a trap, he would blast it down with a single flick of his hand.

The wall slid back behind him the moment he stepped past the pathway's threshold. The bang made him wince. A torch flared on the far end of the corridor and he had to shield his eyes from the glaring brightness.

Draedech. Someone had used magic to light up that torch.

He shared a look with the other two and their wide eyes told him they had reached the same conclusion as him.

"It can't be that bad," Andrew whispered under his breath. His nervousness gave him away. They stood for a few moments, just staring at the wooden door above which the torch had come to life. It seemed a call to damnation to him. He still decided to move. It would be better to go in themselves than be discovered standing still. Their legs carried them forward and before he knew it Thomas had lifted his hand to the door.